


Only You

by NatRogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Natasha Doesnt Share, Natasha Gets Jealous, PWP, Smut, Some Fluff, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, romanogers - Freeform, steve is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatRogers/pseuds/NatRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha makes sure Steve knows two things: one, she doesn't share, and two, there is only one Natasha Romanoff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You

Natasha watches meticulously as agent What’s-Her-Face flirts with her boyfriend. The blonde junior recruit laughs a little too loudly at something Steve says, twirling a lock of hair in her finger as she does so. Natasha feels a little smug, though, when she sees Steve’s expression, a mix of confusion and surprise that his words elicit that big of a reaction from the woman in front of him. Despite being together for almost a year, it still amazes her how oblivious Steve can be when it comes to women. He just doesn’t understand it. 

It would be a lie to say that Natasha isn’t used to seeing other people flirt with him. Not that she can really blame them. Not when he’s basically an Adonis reincarnate – body chiseled, skin flawless, muscles ripped, jaw strong and eyes so piercingly blue and persona every bit as commanding and intelligent as one would expect of a Super Soldier. And then there was his heart, the one thing that made him so uniquely him, so caring and kind and considerate. That still got to her sometimes, and she’s with him constantly at work and at home. So she really can’t blame the random woman or two if they stutter like a love-struck high school girl when they’re around him. 

She doesn’t really mind the gawkers, though. It’s not like she’s a slouch. She is Black Widow after all. She’s one of SHIELD’s best assets. Master spy and valiant fighter. She could have anyone eating out of the palm of her hand without really even trying. And most importantly, she has Steve’s heart. Steve Rogers, the best soldier the world has ever seen, the man who would never think twice about doing the right thing regardless of what it cost him, is _hers_. And she trusts him. She trusts him like she’s never trusted anyone before, and she knows that he would never, ever, be unfaithful to her. 

However, for reasons she can’t fathom, _this_ one really bothers to her. She isn’t sure if it’s because the girl’s combat suit is zipped a little too low to be deemed appropriate, or because as she and Steve were teaching this hand-to-hand combat class she wasn’t actually half bad, or because she was basically undressing Steve with her eyes the entire time, but either way, something about this girl was really rubbing her the wrong way. 

Natasha raises a perfectly arched brow when the girl audaciously lays a hand on Steve’s arm, shamelessly squeezing down on his bicep that's exposed by his training shirt. She feels a mix of unfamiliar feelings stirring within her, causing her temper to flare and her mood to sour. Before she can even think about it, she’s stalking towards them, head held up high and stride confident and tad intimidating. 

“Agent Romanoff,” the agent greets cheerily as she stops by Steve’s side. “I was just telling Captain Rogers how helpful I thought this class was. Having you two here to teach us was definitely a treat.” Natasha gives her a curt nod of acknowledgement, smiling inwardly when the agent noticeably blanches. 

“I’ll meet you in the car,” she tells Steve, looking up at him before walking away. 

He catches up to her just as her finger presses on the down button outside the elevator. “Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing a hold of her arm and forcing her to look at him. 

“Fine,” she says, faking a smile. To the untrained eye her smile might look sincere, but Steve knows better. The elevator doors open and she steps inside. “Like I said, I’ll meet you in the car.” She states her destination to the AI and the glass doors close. Steve watches as the elevator descends and she disappears from his sight. 

He’s already in the driver’s seat and has the engine of her Corvette running when she gets to the basement. She opens the passenger door and slides in, avoiding his gaze as she puts her seatbelt on. “What, Rogers?” she asks, glaring at him when she feels his eyes on her. 

“Did something happen?” Worry is thick in his voice as he asks the question, and somehow that irks her even more. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“Just drive,” she says tersely. He complies, not wanting to press her and puts the car in drive before leaving the Triskelion.

The drive to their apartment is tense and Natasha knows she’s being unreasonably petty. It’s not like Steve did anything wrong, and it isn’t his fault that women just seem to throw propriety out the door when they’re around him. Still, though, she can’t seem to shake the anger from her system. She isn’t even sure if her ire’s directed at him, or at herself for feeling this way, or that level one troll. She decides on the last one. 

Steve parks the car when they get to their apartment and they climb the stairs up to their floor in silence. When they get to their door, he pushes the key into the hole to unlock it and turns the knob. He holds the door open with a hand and lets her walk in first. Natasha sets her duffel down in the hallway, ridding her feet of her boots one by one. 

“Gonna take a shower,” he says, running his hands up and down her shoulders. She nods her acknowledgement and watches his retreating form. 

She walks over to their living room and takes a seat, pulling her ponytail loose and leaning back. She hears the water running in the bathroom and lets out a frustrated sigh when her head hits the cushioned back of the couch. She hates feeling this way. She spent the entire car ride home thinking of other explanations, but there’s simply no way around it. She hates having to admit it, but she’s _jealous_. Jealous of that bicep grabbing blonde that has absolutely nothing on her. And the most frustrating part? She doesn’t even know why. 

_Lies_. She knows why. She knows damn well why. Hard as it might be for some people to believe, Black Widow does get occasionally insecure. How could she not? Steve’s this shining beacon of morality and goodness and she’s who she is. Though he’s never given her a reason to doubt his love or commitment to her, a part of her still worries from time to time that one day he’ll wake up and realize that she’s not good enough for him. That thought scares her, given how far gone she is in her feelings for him. Not that she would ever admit that. Not even to Clint. 

_Get it the hell together, Romanoff_. She pushes herself up, her eyes falling to the lone frame on the coffee table. She picks it up and looks at one of the rare pictures she and Steve have together. She’s not at all sentimental, and Steve practically had to beg her to let him frame this, and though she begrudgingly agreed, she’s glad he pushed her on this. It’s a picture of them in Sam’s backyard on the rare Sunday that they had off. They’re gathered around the fire pit, Steve sitting on a folding chair with a beer in one hand and a Dodgers cap on his head. He’s looking at her with a teeth-baring smile as she sits on his lap, smiling and looking into the camera. In that moment, they look like any other couple in love. They aren’t Captain America and Black Widow. They’re just Steve and Natasha. And they look happy. Steve looks happy. Happy to be with _her_. 

Her confidence rises at that, her earlier worries melting away. She makes him happy. She does. Not those women that pine after him, and definitely not that twit they were training this afternoon. She makes him happy. He’s hers. And she’s going to show him that. 

With a smile, she stands from the couch and makes her way to their bedroom. The water is still running, so she hurries to get her plan together. She strips herself of her training gear and walks to their closet, gathering the things she needs before putting them on. With that, she goes over to her vanity and quickly does her makeup, smiling at her reflection once she’s satisfied. Her stomach coils in excitement when she hears the water stop and makes a beeline for their bathroom. She turns the nob and is greeted by steam and Steve standing in just his pajama bottoms, his back turned as he finishes brushing his teeth by the sink. 

Natasha makes her way behind him and snakes her leather-encased arms around him, locking her hands just above the chiseled planes of his stomach. She steps forward, closing the small distance between them to plant a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Steve gasps as her chest presses against his back, the peaks of her breasts stiff on his warm skin. “Nat, what-“ 

“Sshhh,” she coos, running her lips along the upper half of his spine, the back of his neck, down his shoulder. 

“Thought you were mad at me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Something pointed hits the backs of his feet and he gulps. _Heels_. 

Natasha nips the spot just below his ear before resting her chin on his shoulder. Steve’s breath picks up and she’s not sure if it’s because of their proximity or because she lets one of her hands slip down his front, her fingers tantalizingly tracing the line of sparse hair just below his navel. 

“I was,” she admits. “But not at you.” 

“Natasha-“ 

She silences him with another shush. “It’s fine, Steve,” she assures, breath hot against his ear. “Because I realized something.” 

His mouth opens like he’s about to ask her to continue, but whatever words his brain came up with never make it out of his mouth as Natasha lets a hand ghost past the waistband of his pajamas. She smirks when she meets his bare skin underneath. 

“She can fuck you with her eyes from all the way across the room,” she states, licking the shell of his ear. “She can even try to get her filthy paws on you all she wants.” Her touch is light as a feather as she palms his already hardening member. Steve opens his mouth again, intending to reason with her, to tell her that he has no idea what she’s talking about, but a groan is all that escapes. “But…” The word lingers in the air for a few moments as she runs her thumb along his tip to spread the wetness into her palm. “She’s never going to get what she wants.” 

“Who are you talk-“ he starts to ask, obviously confused. _Always so oblivious, Rogers_. Natasha slides her hand down his shaft, curling her fingers around him at the base before stroking upward once. Twice. “ _Christ_ , Nat.” 

Natasha uses her other hand to move his face to the side. She presses her lips to his as she continues to work him down below. Her lips are forceful on his. Hungry. _Possessive_. “She wants you, Steve,” she practically growls into his mouth. She bites down on his lower lip hard enough to almost draw blood. “Wants to touch you.” Her grip on him tightens, her strokes quickening. “Wants to feel you.” Her ministrations get him painfully hard, the pressure at the base of his spine becoming heavier with every movement of her hand on him as she takes him closer and closer to the edge. “Probably fantasized about you this way a few times.” Her lips capture his again, her kiss full of lust as she swallows down his moans. He’s right at the precipice and she knows it. Menacingly, and in an act of pure evil, she lets go of him. He practically whimpers at the loss of contact and her lips pull back in a mischievous smile. “But you know what, Steve?” 

“Tasha, whadya… what’re…” His thoughts are a jumbled mess, his mind still in a haze from being so close to his release that he doesn’t even realize that she’s turned him around and pushed his pajamas down until they’re nothing more than a pool around his ankles. He looks down at her and swears at the sight of her. She’s on her knees before him with her fiery hair in loose waves, looking up at him with a devious smirk. Her lips are a deep red and her green eyes are dark and kohl rimmed and filled with so much ardor. She’s clad in nothing more than her favorite black leather jacket and sky-high stilettos that leave nothing to the imagination. Not her long creamy neck or the valley between her breasts. Not her glorious mounds with the pebbling pink peaks at the top just begging to be sucked. And definitely not the folds at the apex of her thighs that look already silken and swollen with her own prurience. “ _Jesus Christ_.” 

“She can fantasize all she wants,” she says from her position on the ground, smile still evident in her voice as her palms run up the backs of his thighs. “But she doesn’t know what you like.” She kisses the inside of his thigh and feels his muscles clench at how close she is to where he’s visibly aching. She flicks the tip of her tongue teasingly across the silkiness of his sac, eliciting a curse from him. “Does she, baby?” 

“Jesus, Nat. What’s-“ He’s practically out of his mind with all her teasing, pressing himself harder into the ledge of the bathroom counter just to keep himself upright. 

“She doesn’t know what makes you tick,” she says, sucking one of his balls into her hot mouth. She hears him mewl a mix of pleas and profanities, but she ignores them. “What makes you whine.” She trails her tongue up the long thick vein on his cock, stopping just short of the head. “And moan.” She swirls her tongue around his head, teasing the little slit at the center. “What makes you fall apart.” 

“Oh, God…” he says when she closes her mouth around him and takes in as much of his length as she can. She starts to bob her head back and forth, and his hands search for something to hold onto to, something to anchor him. He settles for clutching the marble countertop to stop himself from thrusting deeper into her mouth. His effort is in vain, though, as her fingers dig into his behind, nails sharply pressing into his skin to pull him close so she can take more of him. “Fuck, Nat.” 

Steve’s eyes close as his head falls back in pleasure. He chokes back a sob when she sucks him harder, one hand coming up again to gently tease his sac that’s already so tight with his impending orgasm. Her mouth releases him and he nearly sputters on his breath. “Eyes on me, soldier,” she orders before he can protest. 

He follows her order because one, it’s innate in him as a soldier to follow, and two, because he might actually lose his mind if he’s denied his release one more time. Steve breathes a sigh of relief when she resumes, watching her red lips wrap around his aching member. Watching as he quite literally _fucks her mouth_. He groans again at the thought, his breathing picking up as every muscle in his body grows taut and his mouth falls slack. The pressure is there again, building and building and building… 

And then she stops. And _smiles_. 

“No! No, Nat… God, _please_. Can’t take any- Hafta-” Steve begs, reasons, wails, so utterly consumed by his pressing need to _come_. Natasha rises from her knees to kiss him, hands soothingly grasping his cheeks. Her lips are soft, wet, and a tad salty, making him ache even more down below. Her hands slide down to his pecs as she slowly pushes him away from the counter and towards the wide ledge of their oversized tub. 

“Sit,” she commands. Steve does as he’s told, the space where the tile meets the ceramic edge of the tub cold against his heated skin. Natasha takes a moment to look at him and smiles. He looks absolutely wrecked – eyes glazed with need and irises a dark navy, chest heaving as his lungs burn for air, skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat, his hardness standing proudly against his belly. She presses her lips to his one more time before turning around and slowly ridding herself of her jacket, leaving her only in her heels that make her legs look like they go on for days. She moves to sit on his left leg, her back to his front, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“Nat, please…” Steve says, closing his eyes as he feels the slickness of her entrance against his thigh. She takes his left hand and guides it between her legs, letting him feel just how soaked she is. Steve groans as he runs a finger up her slit, making Natasha tremble just a bit. 

“Eyes front, okay?” she whispers as a wave of pleasure rolls through her body at his touch. Steve nods at her, lifting his head from watching his fingers and looks straight ahead. He gulps as his eyes meet their reflection in the floor length mirror right across from them. He sees her sitting on his lap, hips slowly rolling against his hand, his erection pressing right into the side of her hip. 

He opens his mouth, most likely to plead with her again, but he shuts it when he feels her maneuver herself up before slowly sliding down on him. Steve cries out as the heat of her core envelops his thickness. “Feel that, baby?” she asks once he’s completely seated inside of her. “Feel how good we fit?” His response is a grumble as she braces her hands on the outside of his legs and clutches the edge of the tub, grounding her hips into his in the process. “She’ll never feel this way, Steve.” Her eyes look directly at his in the mirror as her continues to plunge her heat rapidly up and down his shaft. Natasha pants, the feeling of being so unbelievably full encouraging her to keep moving despite her need for air and shaking legs. “Only me.” 

“Only you, Nat,” he whispers into her ear. A shiver runs down his spine at the sight of her taking his full length over and over again. Natasha sees his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth together, his hand moving down to where they’re joined to find her bundle of nerves. She gasps as his finger circles her and she clenches her walls around him as she, too, watches his length disappear into her repeatedly. “It’s only ever been you.” 

Steve bucks his hips up to meet hers and she lets out a surprised pule. Despite the fact that breathing has become an arduous task, her lips pull back into a satisfied smile as she looks at their reflection through heavy lids. Her senses are completely magnified by being so wrapped up in him and she can only surmise that his feel the exact way. How could his not be with how slithery their skin is with their own sweat and arousal, when all they can hear is the sound of their heavy breathing and their flesh pounding against each other’s. She has to bite her lip at how good it feels to have him so deep inside her, to be so completely lost and consumed and just filled by _him_. 

It doesn’t take long until his thrusts become erratic underneath her. She knows he’s close, has been for a while now. She is, too, but she’s not at all surprised that he’s held out this long considering the man's the very epitome of control and restraint. She’s more surprised that she’s held on, given how relentless his finger has been on her engorged nub and how she’s been taking him to the hilt at every push of her hips against his. Steve moves one hand from her hip up to her nipple, teasing and tweaking the peak between nimble fingers and she whines. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

“It’ll only ever be you, Nat,” he whispers into the skin of her neck through his thrusts. “Only one who’ll make me feel this way.” She screeches when the pad of his finger presses down harder on her sex, working her deliciously so and propelling them both closer to the edge. “Only one I’d want coming apart for me.” He tweaks her nipple even harder and sucks down on the pulse point on her neck. “Only one I’d come apart for.” Her vision completely blurs at his words as she climaxes around him, tide after tide of pleasure rippling through every nerve and fiber of her being. Steve pistons into her trembling form once more before following suit, spilling inside her with a groan and filling her with warmth. 

They stay like that for a while longer; wrapped up in each other with him still fully seated inside her as they both fight to fill their lungs with air. Natasha reaches behind her and lazily lets her fingers play with the damp hair at the back of his neck as Steve busies himself with peppering her shoulder and neck with lazy kisses. She sighs contentedly when he angles her face so he can peck her lips. 

“I love you,” she says, resting her forehead on his. Steve smiles, completely sated. 

“I love you,” he echoes. He kisses her again like he can’t stop himself and looks deeply into her eyes. “Only you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> Well, this one was kind of inspired by an image I saw as I scrolled down my Tumblr feed.  
> Here it is if you would like to check it out (Warning: NSFW): http://natrogersfics.tumblr.com/post/146586409479
> 
> Looking for story previews and updates? Follow me on Tumblr: natrogersfics 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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